


Learning by the Numbers

by Churbooseanon



Series: Guns For Hire [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Guns For Hire AU, Mercenaries, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some stories start on Adaptive. Some come to be there. Sniper extraordinaire North Dakota has never known another place, but he’s learned much from his experiences here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Am I disappointed it took me four and a half months to get here? You betcha. Anyway, this story and the story for South Dakota (Hardened by the Years) are written in tandem. Each chapter between this and that is paired and centered around the same event, with different points of view and bits of info. Best read by reading first the South chapter and then the North, and so on like that.

Human beings make mistakes. There is about as much question about that as there is about the color of the sky on a clear day. Seriously, if there is one thing that he has become certain of in his life as a mercenary, a gun for hire, a professional hit man, it's that life is full of mistakes. Making the wrong turn at an intersection and so missing the restaurant you were looking for completely. Buying someone a birthday gift and finding out they have the item already and you didn't keep the receipt. Things large and small that seemingly alter life itself. 

The real test, of course, is how you react to those mistakes. Whether you scream and shout or learn and adapt. Learning, though? That can be equated to survival.

* * * * * *

The only thing worse than having to get up in the morning, Nic thinks, is being shaken awake when you know it's your day to sleep in. A sudden, bouncy shifting of his bedding announces that his little sister has arrived to stir him from his sleep, which Nic does not appreciate. In fact, he groans, rolls over, and finds himself pulling the blankets higher up over himself. Maybe that will make her get the point. 

“Nic,” Nicky say, her hand touching his shoulder and shaking it, showing she actually hasn't taken the hint he so desperately wanted her to. “Nic! Come on! It's our birthday! You've got to get up!”

Yes, it was. Today they turn eight, which is all the more reason, he thinks, to sleep in. In fact...

“It's our birthday. Which means I get to sleep in,” Nic agrees with a yawn and a refusal to look at his sister. “No school, no chores, no nothing! Go away.”

Even that doesn't work from the way he feels his blankets being pulled at. Not to mention his arm, or the shirt of his super awesome purple pummeler super hero pajamas. 

“You can sleep in later,” her voice whines loudly, ringing in his ears. “Get up! It's breakfast time.”

“Nicky,” Nic growls, closing his eyes tightly, trying to block her existence out. “Shut up!”

He realizes a moment too late what a mistake it was to say something like that. 

“Ooooooh,” she jeers at him, poking at his shoulders. “Mom says you're not allowed to tell me to shut-up. I'm gonna tell!”

The threat processes even slower than the mistake of his comment, and he has to wince. He can hear her feet hit the floor and she's off and running even as Nic starts to try and tear out of the cocoon of blankets he had made in the night. 

“Nicky!” he calls angrily after her as he struggles before falling to the floor. God this is so stupid, why does she have to be a pest? “Nicky you come back here!” 

He gets up, untangles himself, and jams his feet into his slippers before heading out into the hall. But no, she's already at the bottom of the stairs as he stomps out of the room. Nicky is just faster, and more awake. There is no way Nic is catching up, and so he just hopes that the fact that it's his birthday will protect him from the no doubt deserved wrath of their parents. After all, he can't get grounded on his birthday, right? It's like a rule or something. It has to be. Still, he grumbles as he thumbs down the stairs, watching Nicky dart toward the kitchen. Mom and Dad will be there, waiting for them to come down for birthday breakfast. Which is nice, Nic has to admit that, but at the same time he really wishes he'd been allowed to have his sleep. Stupid Nicky being a stupid pest on their stupid birthday like a little girl who can't even take care of herself or go downstairs without dragging him with her. 

Sometimes he wishes he didn't even have a twin. Not that he didn't have a sister. Okay, so many a little that he didn't have a sister, but before that he just wishes he could have been a real big brother instead of a fake big brother, which his what he is now and it isn't fair. Other boys at school don't have to be in a class with their sister. Other boys at school don't have to stand up for her because their dads say so. Other boys at school can just do what they want and he has to be around Nicky. Always around Nicky. Stupid stupid head. 

Nic fumes like that all the way down the stairs and to the kitchen, not even paying attention to the noise in the house. He knows his face is grumpy when he comes into the kitchen because the way he does it is supposed to be grumpy. She needs to know he isn't happy and he's her big brother, both in age and size and she should listen to him. That should be how siblings work. Geez, hadn't anyone given her a rule book? They should teach that in school rather than stupid things like math.

“And there's the birthday boy,” his Dad greets him brightly as Nic enters the kitchen. Nic doesn't even have a chance to grunt a response before he's caught up into his father's arms. Dad carries him to his chair at the table and puts him down in it before ruffling his hair. 

“Dad, come on, I'm eight now,” he grumbles under his breath. Eight year-olds aren't supposed to have their hair ruffled by their dads. His friends at school told him that and he believes it. Still, it is nice, even if he isn't supposed to enjoy it. Nice to know and see and feel his father loves him like this. Now, if only he could get a kiss on the head from Mom. 

“That doesn't mean that you aren't my little boy,” Dad insists softly before leaving to move to his seat. Nic puts his head down on the table as his father keeps talking. 

“We expected you two to sleep in longer,” Dad admits, and Nic has to groan again. 

“Nicky wouldn't stop bugging me until I got up,” Nic complains even as he immediately hears Nicky say “Nuh-uh” which only proves his point because she didn't even let him finish complaining before denying it. Clearly lying. 

Dad, though... well, he's Dad. He's never really tried to pick sides between them when they were fighting, so why would he care do that now, with Nic in the absolute right? 

“Either way, you're both awake and down here now, so that's what matters,” their father chuckles. “Which means you can have your presents sooner.”

“Yay,” Nic let himself yawn. He is pretty sure he knows what the gift is this year, another paired gift. One Nicky had been trying to convince their parents to give them for months. It didn't matter that Nic had wanted a new Gamejam system so he could play all the newest games. Not in the slightest. He is going to get the thing Nicky wants, whether he likes it or not.  
“Well,” his father said, his voice heavy with contemplation and warning in a way that makes Nic look up. “If you're going to act like that, maybe I'll just give your gifts to Nicky.”

It's an empty threat, but Nicky seems like she's bouncing across the table so Nic grimaces. 

“I'm okay with that!” Nicky chirps to their father. “Twice as many...”

This is just too ridiculous to put up with. “I want my gifts,” Nic interrupts her, because even if it isn't exactly what he wants, it's still his and if it's a bike he's certain it will be cool. Cooler than Nicky's at least. Cool enough to show off to the kids down the street who act so awesome because they already have bikes. But now Nic's going to have one to and they're going to want one just like his. 

“Then can I have his pancakes instead?” Nicky giggles and Nic rolls his eyes. Pest. 

“You have to share,” their Mom laughs, and Nic has to wonder why Mom hasn't come over to kiss his forehead and wish him happy birthday yet. But she's making said pancakes so he guesses he can't complain too much. 

It is, after all, his birthday.

* * * * * *

Sure enough it is a bicycle, and honestly, it's a lot cooler than even Nic could have guessed. He'd torn apart his blue and green paper to find a bike just his size, painted dark purple like his shirt with big black wheels with beads on the spokes. As Nic spins the pedal round and round, ignoring Nicky opening her own gift, he has to smile at the sound they make. With them the bike sounds way cooler than the bikes the Johnsons up the street have. He could sit on it and pedal up and down the block and everyone will hear him coming. They'll watch with envy as he moves, the center of all attention. Maybe then the kids at school won't pick on him because of Nicky. From his color to his wheels to the little name plate on the back with his name painted on it by Mom, it's clearly the coolest bike that has ever existed. Even better than Nicky's soft, girly color of purple one. 

He's so caught up in looking at his bike that he doesn't even notice that his Mom and sister are gone until his father clears his throat. Then Nic looks around quickly. Had he missed something? With Nicky and her bike gone he has to guess that she went outside and part of him wants to do that too. Except the way Dad is looking at him with his sharp green eyes is... well, it keeps Nic in place. 

“Yeah?” Nic asks at last, frowning at his Dad. “What is it?”

He watches for a while as his father just breathes. The look on his face isn't one that Nic is familiar with, and he has to wonder what it means. It's like his serious look, but mixed a little with his worried look, and definitely has a lot of his 'but they're kids, Nancy, they shouldn't have to hear this stuff' look too. That last one isn't very good in his opinion. It's normally one that Dad only uses with Mom, and Nic thinks if Dad is using it without her, something serious is up.

“How... how would you feel if you had your own bedroom?”

The look on his Dad's face is only more concerned now, which makes Nic wonder if that is the question he really wants to ask. Not that he doesn't have an answer for this one anyway. 

“I think I'd like it more,” Nic admits slowly. Dad has an office here, and maybe him and Mom finally thought him and Nicky were big enough to sleep apart now. Wouldn't that be awesome? Not having to share his stuff, not having Nicky bounce on his bed first thing. He could sleep when he wants, get up when he wants, not have to play with her if he didn't want. The walls could be blue or dark green and he could have shelves for all his favorite cars and since all his clothes would come back to his room Nicky would stop stealing his shirts. “Can Nicky get the office? It's a smaller room and I'm the bigger kid, so I should get the bigger room.”

“We... were thinking something a little different,” his father said, and Nic could see Dad biting his lip a little with his teeth. That... isn't good. 

“Like moving somewhere?” Nic asks, frowning. “All my friends are here.”

“Something like that,” Dad sighs, shaking his head. “You see Nic... Your Mom and I are thinking that maybe we should spend some time apart.”

No. Nic's eyes go wide. He's heard kids at school talking about parents being 'apart.' It means a divorce. He's big enough to know that much. Except Mom and Dad can't do that. Nic doesn't care what Tomas says about getting extra Christmas and birthday gifts. Families are supposed to be together. No, he doesn't like what his Dad is talking about at all, so not okay with it. 

“And you think giving me my own room makes up for it?” Nic asks, annoyed. “Moms and Dads should be togeth...”

He doesn't get to finish because the way Dad isn't looking at him is scary in its own way now. Dad... didn't mean to give Nic his own room, did he?

“Me and your mom don't want to be without you two,” Dad says slowly, still not looking at Nic. “What would happen is that Nicky would go with your Mom and you'd stay with me. Both of you would still go to school together, and every few weeks we'd switch who was staying with who. You'd stay two weeks of weekdays with me, and then two weeks of weekdays with her. And weekends you and Nicky would be together, of course, either with me or your Mom, switching off every weekend.”

No. No no no!

“You can't!” Nic insists, getting to his feet and stomping one on the floor. “You can't do this!”

“Nic, it's... sometimes Daddies and Mommies just have to...”

“I'm eight, not stupid,” Nic protests. “We had a big talk about it in class last year when Kiki's parents broke up. How we're not allowed to tease other kids if their parents do it because it doesn't mean their Moms and Dads don't love them, and how to help them feel better at school and stuff. But I don't care. You can't do that. That happens to other families, like Kiki's! It doesn't happen to us.”

He's yelling, and Nic knows it. He knows he's not supposed to, but he does it anyway because it just hurts so much to think about it. Not only would it mean that Mom and Dad wouldn't be together, but Nicky... 

Even as much as she's a pest and sometimes stupid and the boys at school are mean to him because she doesn't get that they don't have to be together all the time, they are still his family. Dad and Mom and yes, Nicole too. They are a family and no one is allowed to take that away. 

“Nic, this isn't about...”

Whatever Dad is going to say is cut off by the siren that announces a plague cloud coming in. Immediately Nic runs to his Dad, jumping into his arms. A lot of kids his age are scared by the clouds. He thinks the teachers do it on purpose, telling them all these horrible things. But he's scared and so he throws himself at his father, and squirms closer as his Dad's arms close tightly around him. As he closes his eyes he can feel his dad reaching for something, probably the pad that tells him the conditions of seals on windows and doors around the house. 

It's only as his father hums in approval and sets the thing aside that Nic thinks to ask. 

“Where's Mom and Nicky?”

There is a moment that is so quiet that Nic thinks he can hear his father's heart beating in his chest. And then it hits him. That isn't a heart. 

It's someone pounding on the airlock door. Pounding with a high pitched noise.

Nic doesn't think in his whole life his Dad has ever dropped him. Not before this. There, he thinks, is why it's so scary. He hits the floor and already his Dad is running to the door. Running and shouting as he palms the airlock door open. 

His Dad blocks the door, and all Nic can see through his father's legs is his mother laying on the floor of the airlock. 

“Nic,” his father calls, voice sharp and scared. Nic rushes to his feet and runs over to his father. 

“Dad, Dad, what's going on, why is Mom on the...”

He doesn't get to finish. Instead he gets Nicky shoved into his arms by his father. 

“Take Nicky and go upstairs,” Dad commands, and the way Nicky is wrapping her arms around him, Nic isn't sure what to do. “Go upstairs now, Nicolas, and don't come down until I tell you.”

Nic isn't certain which scares him more, the fear in his father's voice, the fact that Mom isn't moving, or that Nicky is wearing Mom's helmet. Instead of trying to think it full he pulls Nicky, crying Nicky, scared Nicky, toward the stairs and up them. 

He gets the bedroom door closed behind him even as he hears his father's voice talking to no one downstairs. 

“Hello? I need medical assistance. My wife... I think she's...”

The door closes with a very final click. 

* * * * * *

Dad doesn't call for them until dinner. Nic lays in his bed, Nicky in his arms, and he just holds his twin. Moments like these he wonders if he needs her more than she needs him, and then he realizes the question is stupid. No one is telling him anything. Mom's helmet sits on Nicky's bed, staring at them with its yellowish visor. Mom hadn't had it on in the airlock, and all Nicky had done since they'd laid down was cry. 

It doesn't take a really smart kid, or even a ten year old, to put the pieces together like a puzzle. Sometimes Nicky's tears turn into hiccups and Nic just rubs her back, trying to get her to calm down. He remembers getting up once to go to their bathroom and bring her back a cup of water. Mom always gives them water when they cry. She says it keeps their heads from hurting, keeps them from running out of tears. 

Nic wonders if there are enough tears in the whole world to be cried. 

When Nicky falls asleep at last it's getting dark outside their window. Mom and Dad didn't call them down for lunch, but Nic could hear people talking and moving around downstairs after there were more sirens. People just talk and talk downstairs and Nic fishes out his secret candy bar collection to share with Nicky so they won't be hungry. 

It isn't until Nicky is asleep from her tears and it should be dinner time that Nic unwinds himself from his sister and sneaks to the bedroom door. The voices downstairs are gone, and when he sneaks to look over the railings he can see a mess on the living room floor. Wrappers from bandages and lots of other things everywhere. And in the middle of it sits his Dad, staring down at the floor. 

Nic slips quietly down the stairs and into the living room. Of course, Dad hears him approach and he looks up. Nic can see tear marks on his cheeks. That, mixed with the mess and Mom not being here can't be good. The sirens, earlier... ambulances? 

“Nic,” his father chokes out. “Nic, I...”

Nic doesn't let his father finish. He's too scared of what Dad might say. Instead he moves forward to hug his dad tightly. And it's not until his Dad hugs him back that he thinks maybe this could be okay. Has to be okay. It's his birthday. He's eight. Nothing can be bad today. Except there is his mom's helmet up on Nicky's bed and...

“I need you to pack your bookbags,” Dad says finally, pulling away from Nic and looking him in the eyes. “I need you to put some clothes and toys for you and Nicky in your bookbags. Leave your school stuff behind, okay? Clothes, toys, maybe some books and your stuffed animals, okay?”

“Dad... where's Mom?”

“I'm going to take you and Nicky to see her right now,” Dad answers, his voice quiet. “So can you go do that for me?”

Nic nods and rushes back upstairs to follow orders. 

* * * * * *

On his eighth birthday Nic goes to the hospital with his Dad and Nicky. They sit in uncomfortable chairs in Mom's room and wait. Nicky and Dad can't stop crying. Nic stays quiet. One of them has to be the adult. He promises Mom he's going to take care of them both when he's alone with her. He knows he's telling the truth when it comes to Dad. 

But on that day, a week and a half after his eighth birthday when the machines make angry noises and Dad cries and shouts this can't happen and just do something... On that day he knows he's going to actually have to do it. 

And when he sees Nicky sitting still in her seat, barely moving a muscle as she cries, he learns something that scares him. 

Mom dies of slow cloud poisoning, and it's all Nicky's fault. He hates her for it. He hates his sister. 

And Nic resolves to never let her know.


	2. Ten

Fifth grade is a lot harder than third, to be honest. Fifth grade isn’t easy because classes are harder and even though a lot of kids are younger than you, the ones that are older are a lot worse than they used to be because they are sixth graders who are noticing you and they know that if they get in trouble it isn’t all that bad. They get to go off to a new school in the seventh grade and the teachers don’t know them there and even if the teachers say that you have a permanent record, Nic doesn’t believe that it really matters. Because if it did then kids like Sam and Jimmy wouldn’t be allowed to do things like they do every lunch period. 

Things like how Sam hauls Nic to his feet, an arm slung around his shoulder. Nic doesn’t like it when Sam touches him, but he figured out a year ago that the best way to avoid being bullied is to be the bully’s friend. It’s mean and it’s wrong and he wants it to not happen. But his lunch was stolen too many times, his homework stolen to be copied, and those the nicer results that makes him wish he didn’t ever have to see the other boys at school. But Nic does, and he knows the secret to getting through all of this. 

If only the same ever got offered to Nicky. Nicky who Nic was being hauled to right now by Sam, who doesn’t even look up to notice that there are people behind her. She’s just staring down at her lunchbox as she pulls her straw from her juice box. Grape. Nicky hates grape juice, but there was only one apple left this morning and she made sure Dad put it in his box. 

_Take care of her,_ his father says every morning when Nicky’s raced out of the car and NIc is still getting his bag onto his shoulder. _She’s smaller than you, and she’s your little sister. In there, you’re all she has._

She doesn’t even have that. 

At last Sam’s arm comes from around Nic’s shoulder, and there’s a tension in his sister’s shoulders that makes Nic think she knows he’s there. But no, she’s doesn’t look up until Sam has reached over her shoulder to steal her sandwich. How many days has Nic stood here silently, letting them do this to her? Not once has he spoken up, has he tried to stop Sam, and even if he gets why, he isn’t sure he can be proud of himself. He’s a coward, and today, like any other, Nicky’s immediately on her feet, shouting. 

Next to his sister, Nic is just a coward. He wishes he could be half so confident as she is. Half so strong. Instead he stands back as Sam throws her lunch and Nicky turns on him with fire in her eyes and fists at her side. 

“Sam, stop it!” she tells the sixth grader that Nic isn’t hiding behind. Is totally hiding behind because he doesn’t know how to stand in front of him. She reaches when the food flies, and Nic can only follow it with his eyes, silent and hurt. Every day he watches this, and every day Nicky loses at least part of her lunch, and for what? Because she won’t give Sam the same satisfaction that other kids that get bullied do. Even when she’s upset, she never bows before him. 

Nicky is unbelievably strong.

Same is laughing, and Nic’s hand goes to his stomach because he feels sick to hear it. If it was him in Nicky’s place, she’d hit and shout and scream until the teachers came. And he waits, silently. Observes. Another boy grabs her baggie of carrots and celery and those get thrown too. For a minute they land in Nic’s hands. Not that Sam trusts him with them. Within seconds the other kid has snatched them away and is throwing them to his younger brother Jimmy. And Nicky, god how she runs and jumps and reaches. 

“Sam, you give me back my lunch right now!” she shouts as she runs to a boy named Josh. A third grader who is only safe from Sam’s anger because the boy had learned quickly that if he gave his milk money willingly to the bully, he bought protection instead. 

“I don’t have it,” Same laughs, and when Nicky turns to look at them, Nic has to look away. How could he ever look her in the eyes? It doesn’t matter what she’s lost them both because she, at least, cares to try to keep on going. To keep on trying. She always lives, tries to do really good with what Mom gave her. 

“Tell them to give it back,” Nicky insists, and Nic winces at the anger in her voice. Doesn’t she know that fighting only makes it worse? A lot worse? Why can’t she bow her head? Why can’t she beg the teachers for help? Why can’t she just do what they want and stop getting hurt. 

“Why, you going to cry if they don’t?” 

“I don’t cry,” Nicky’s voice grumbles and Nic looks up when he hears it. Because he knows that wavering in her voice. Too many nights he’s heard her lay in bed when she thinks he’s asleep, and he listens to her sniffle. Most nights he can hear her hand reach up and tap against the old license plate that Mom made her. The last thing Mom made either of them. Nic got mad, after the funeral. He shouted at her and kicked her bike and the plate cracked. 

Still she touches it every night and she cries, her voice sounding just like this while she whispers words he doesn’t really know. 

There are tears on her cheeks now, rolling down her skin and it makes him sick. More than sick. Hurts him hard and he wishes he knew what he was doing anymore. Wants to make it better. Nic wants to move forward and catch his sister in his arms and make her feel happy and safe. He’s tall enough that pretty much no one here can really throw better than him or catch better. He can get back her lunch and they can go eat closer to the teachers and he can be there for her. Protect her like Dad said. 

“Really? You’re crying now. Nicky’s just a little baby. Little crying baby girl can’t even eat her lunch.”  
Nic knows it’s coming just before it happens. Her fists are more than clenched and her jaw is set in the stubborn way that he remembers from her arguing with babysitters. 

“I’m not a baby!” she shouts and he doesn’t move in time. Doesn’t step in. Just watches as Nicky’s fist connects with Sam’s guy, and then the bully is stumbling back. The sandwich hitting his face almost makes Nic smile. 

But Sam sits there on the floor and Nic knows what is coming next. The same thing that comes when people always stand up to Sam. Dad says bullies are cowards. Nic doesn’t believe him, because Sam is getting to his feet. 

“You… you can’t do that!” he shouts. “You just can’t!”

When the older boy raises his hand Nic can’t hold back anymore. He won’t let this happen. While Nicky closes her eyes and looks away, Nic moves. He grabs Sam around the waist and pulls the other boy back as he struggles. An elbow hits in him the side of the head and still Nic holds on. If he lets go Nicky will get hit. He’s going to protect her. He has to. She’s all he has here too. Dad somehow left that part out. How could he have done that? Or had he wanted Nic to learn it on his own? Sometimes Dad works in strange ways. 

Nicky’s eyes open he sees her look at him. Their gazes meet for just a moment as the other boys start running toward him. He hopes she gets it. He hopes she runs. Then someone’s pulling him off of Sam and there is so much shouting. All he has time to think about is staying on his feet with so many people around him. He punches and groans as someone hits him in the stomach. Another kid kicks him in the leg and Nic turns and pulls at Sam’s hair. The sound of the other boy calling out in pain makes him smile, and then there’s a punch so hard he can taste blood in his mouth. There are kids around him shouting about a fight, and from the noise the teachers are probably coming. Nic doesn’t care. He has to do this. This is what is right. 

* * * * * *

By the time Dad comes into the Principal’s office Nic has been sat down in a chair, with several seats between him and the other boys. From the look of them he’s got the worst of it, but the school nurse already cleaned the blood off his face and stopped the bleeding. Still, from how hard it is to see out of his eye, he’s pretty sure that he’s worse off. The look Dad gives him is a strange one. Angry and confused and disappointed as Nic looks up at his father. 

“Why?” 

It’s the only thing Dad asks. Really, it’s the only thing that needs to be asked. 

Nic stares defiantly up at his father. It has to be said. He isn’t ashamed that he did it. Just that it took so long to happen. 

“I’m supposed to protect her. She’s all I’ve got.”

Dad watches silently for a moment. Then he nods and heads through the Principal’s door. It’s all the approval Nic needs. No matter what anyone else says, he did the right thing. 

Better late than never.


	3. Thirteen

His tie is too tight.

Strange how that is the detail that stands out for him. Maybe it’s because he’s never worn a tie before. Didn’t even own one before. Mister Langley, who has lived next door all his life, took Nicolas over to his house last night to look over some clothes his grandchildren left for special occasions. None of them fit quite right because Nic is tall, but they find pants that are long enough if he rolls up the cuffs, a shirt that doesn’t keep his arms from moving, and the tie. 

Nic hates the tie, hates everything it represents. Never before has he been asked to look nice in this way. Never been a reason to be this focused. This good. Mister Langley took out his scissors and electric razor and even now the back of his neck itches. His fingers scream to reach up, to scratch the back of his neck. It feels cold, even with the collar. Never before has he had so little hair there. Another day Nicky might have teased him. Not today. She’s silent and somber next to him, dressed in some black dress that Mister Langley had given her too. Nicky had wanted to wear pants too. 

It, apparently, wasn’t seemly for a girl to wear pants to her father’s funeral.

There are people talking. He understands why. There is a priest saying things because that is just what his job is. To talk about someone he doesn’t know, make big, sweeping statements that make their father seem this grandiose hero that never existed. Nic knows who his father really is. A man that was going to leave Nic’s mother. A person who never explained that there was a chance that Nic and Nicky might get picked on in school. Who never tried to take them away from it, just made them go there day after day. 

This wasn’t a man who could protect them, even if he loved them. Dad did his best, but even here he finds himself let down. Still is let down. Nic stands there in silence as the coffin is lowered. A hand at his back pushes him forward. The touch makes him look over his shoulder at the old, kind looking woman standing at his side. Her face is familiar from the last few days, and he hates it. Makes him sick to see it. 

“You’re supposed to go put flowers on the coffin,” the old woman reminds him. That’s what you do, that’s what he was told this morning. Pluck silk flowers from the arrangements people sent, and put them on the fake wood. Fake wood, fake flowers, fake grass over real limits of the desert. She’s just as fake as the rest of this. Her smile fake, her warmth fake, her place in their life fake. 

Nic reaches for his sister’s hand, and what he finds is Nicky’s grip is almost painfully tight. Of course. They’re going to lose each other. Letting each other go has to happen soon, and he doesn’t want to do it yet. Just like her. 

When he tugs her forward, Nicky follows. He stops by a large display that has pale purple flowers in it and plucks a pair. One he passes to Nicky. He stands back as she drops her flower, then places his on top of that. The last thing they’ll do as a pair he thinks. Once it’s done his hand is in hers again, and while other people move forward to ‘pay their respects’, she’s pulling him away. No one seems to really be watching them, and Nic lets her pull until they’re a bit away. Until the sound and the murmurs are gone.

“She’s going to take us away from each other,” Nicky says as they watch people. He watches people differently from what she does, he thinks. But it’s hard to tell. What goes on in her mind is a mystery to him. One he isn’t trying to figure out anymore. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. That’s the job of someone from social services. Not like they have other family to go to. 

“Dad said I’m supposed to protect you.”

Nic just smiles at that. Sounds like something Dad would say. Has said. When he was younger Dad used to remind him that it was his job to watch out for his little sister. Not that he thinks of her as little anymore. Sure she’s smaller. Sure she’s younger. Doesn’t mean she isn’t strong. 

“I’m okay with that,” Nic admits. “But that means you have to be around. I can’t be protected if you’re not here.”

There’s a bitter laugh from her. “Easy to say. Hard to do.”

Nic wraps an arm around his sister’s shoulder and pulls her even closer. They aren’t going to be taken away from each other again. Not this time. He doesn’t know how, but he’ll be at her side. Is at her side. He’ll fight everything for her, at her side. They’re better together and he won’t let her go. 

“We’re alone now,” Nicky whispers, and at last Nic looks down at his sister. When she looks up at him he can see the tears in her eyes. But she doesn’t cry. Nicky is way better at this now than she was when she was a kid. The tears come, but she never sheds them. Nic wishes he was as strong as her. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers, pulling his sister into his arms. “It’s not your fault. You were there for Dad like I wasn’t in the end. And Mom…”

Nicky goes stiff like she always does when he talks about Mom. Like she thinks he blames her. Maybe he did once. So long ago. But he gets it now. Now that he’s older and he knows what it’s like to want to protect someone. 

“It’s okay, Nicky. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Mom did what she had to. But Mom and Dad are gone now. And only we can protect each other now. We’re family, and no one can ever take that away from us. Not ever.”

She nods against his chest and Nic just holds her. 

They’re going to figure it out. That’s all he has to do. Figure out how to keep them going. All he needs is time to think.


	4. Fifteen

Life is a strange mixture of easy and difficult in a way that Nicolas had never really thought was possible. For the first thing, he had expected to be chased. Not because John wanted them in particular for anything other than the money they brought into the house because of the foster care system, or because of the respect John got from people he drank with because of how good Nic was at basketball. It was more that he figured that their case agent would have cared to look for them. Having not one but two teens the woman was responsible for disappear doesn’t really make sense. 

Here they are, though, three months after the night where Nicky was going to go on her own. The apartment is tiny, it’s dingy, and Nic worries every time there is a cloud forecasted that seals on the building won’t work. The first few times he makes them wear their helmets when the alert comes up, and Nicky doesn’t argue it. Maybe she is just as concerned as he is. But sleeping in helmets isn’t easy, and so they end up stopping that habit rather quickly. Doesn’t make him feel any safer. 

“They’re going to come for us tomorrow,” Nicky tells him every night before they fall asleep, sharing a flimsy mattress on the floor. It’s weak, the blanket is cold, and they only reason Nic gets to sleep at night is because his twin sister is there, safe in his arms. 

“Maybe,” he agrees, frowning into the darkness. There is always a chance that someone will show up any moment to scoop them up and put them back in John’s possession. Every time she says it he lays there, trying to figure out if telling their caseworker that their ‘foster father’ was beating his sister. Three months, though, means that there aren’t any bruises, aren’t any physical marks. It’s their word against his, and Nic’s disillusioned enough with authority figures to begin to think they’ll be believed. 

“I’m going to get fired today,” Nicky sighs every morning as they sit cross-legged on the floor and eat sandwiches at their cardboard and cinder block table. 

“Maybe,” Nic agrees, his eyes flitting around the room that is just wide enough for him to not be able to touch both walls at the same time. His gaze pauses on the table, their bed, the bags that they are living out of, their boots by the door, and their work uniforms hanging on the back of the door. 

She’s paranoid, and he can’t blame her. Nic, with his size and his sports bulk, could be mistaken as an adult, or at least sixteen. No one is going to question him being part time, or getting full time hours under the table. Not that he likes being a janitor, but the pay is decent, and they didn’t mind paying him well or looking the other way about his age. They just took what he said and didn’t think too hard. But Nicky? Nicky looked closer to their age when her helmet is off. She’s taller, but she’s slight, and Nic knows that it’s only how good she is at her job that keeps her boss from reporting her. 

From her stories there isn’t a bicycle courier in this part of Adaptive who can keep up with her. The way she smirks and the light in her eyes makes him believe every last word she says. 

“We’re not going to make it,” Nicky notes as she changes. Nic never lets her see him roll his eyes, but that’s because he’s got his back to her as she changes. As much as he loves his sister, he’s worn out by the pessimism. Not that he doesn’t understand where it’s coming from. 

It started the day they got this place. The landlord, an older woman with too many cats who lives upstairs and who eyes them with suspicion when Nic stops by twice a month with half the rent, hadn’t liked them when they showed up. ‘You’ll be gone soon’ she said when she showed Nic the room, Nicky standing in the hall and not looking at the space. 

‘Could be,’ Nic had agreed, and he had heard his sister scoff. From the first moment Nicky and the woman had looked at each other and Nic could sense the conflict. Like two angry, feral cats pacing each other before a territorial conflict. Nic ignores them both and when he’s convinced the woman they’ll be good tenants, Nicky finally comes in. 

‘This place smells like cat piss.’

Nic had laughed, but he guessed it. This was Nicky’s pain, Nicky’s escape, Nicky’s suffering. Never had she expected to have support. Not him at her side. Nic hadn’t been abused, Nic had it easy, Nic didn’t need to run. His suffering is self-inflicted rather than a change of location. 

“We will,” Nic counters softly. When he hears her flop down onto the floor to haul on her boots, Nic turns to look at her. The company she works for has a hideous but obvious color, a vibrant lime green that burns itself into his corneas every time he looks at it. A tight pair of bike shorts for ‘reduced wind resistance’ that bothers Nic because it looks like her boss is just trying to check her out. The coat is a light one in the same terrible color with gray accents, but on her it… almost looks good.

“How can you be so sure?” she asks, her voice a soft sigh. There is a tiredness there that Nic feels deep down inside himself too. 

From here it should only get easier. Maybe it will, maybe it won’t, but he has to believe it will. 

“Because I can’t let myself believe anything else,” Nic counters, moving to haul his sister to her feet so he can hug her. Nicky doesn’t turn to face him. He just loops his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her head. “We’re survivors, Nicole. That’s what Mom made us. What Dad made us. And we’re not going to let them down.”

The reminder of their parents always seems to give Nicky strength. Even now he can hear her chuckling. 

“Of course I’m not,” Nicky insists, pulling away easily. Nick’s strong, but the last few months have changed Nicky. Sure stronger legs make sense with the bike, but when she isn’t working, when she’s home, Nic gets to watch her move the cardboard of their makeshift table and lift the cinderblock time and time again. Strength, he gets that. Nicky needs to be strong, for her own sake. If they don’t feel strong, how in the world are they going to feel like they can make it on the streets? The physical informs the mental. 

“I’ve got to take care of the big idiot that has to follow me wherever I go. Like a damn puppy looking for a home.”

Nic can’t help the bark of laughter as she pulls her helmet off of the charger platform that all apartments come with. His sister turns and sticks her tongue out at him before her whole face disappears inside her helmet. Lilac and lime green. It works for her. 

“I’m not a puppy,” he laughs as he grabs his uniform from the back of the door and throws off his t-shirt to pull on his uniform top instead. “I’m a full grown mutt.”

Her own laughter is musical. It’s not often they get a chance to enjoy it, but he likes it. It means they’re still alive. Still alive and moving on. 

“How goes the savings?” she asks, because while Nicky is better with numbers, Nic is the one that gets nervous whenever he thinks about their money situation. By giving him control of the money, she knows he can at least relax a bit. Plus Nic has found he’s less likely to buy frivolous things himself if he has control of the money. No, it’s Nicky that has the real self-restraint. 

“Another month and we’ll be able to buy you your own bike.”

The cant of her helmet tells him that she’s smiling. Her job charges for the use of their bicycles, and if they can buy her one, ultimately it will bring more money into their little household. More money means they can make time for Nic to take less hours so he can look for a better job. But they have to figure things out one day at a time. Each step is as important as the last. 

“Score,” Nicky says, fists pumping with victory as she opens the door. “See you after work.”

“Don’t forget to…”

“Yeah,” Nicky agrees. “I’ll send you a message to check in at lunch.”

They have to make rules about things like this. Nic is scared to be apart from her this long. They’ve never done it before in their lives, except for the last few months. But they do what they have to do. Talking through lunch is what they have. Talking across the city from each other while they eat their boring sandwiches and Nicky doesn’t tell him about any close calls she may or may not have. It doesn’t matter that there aren’t a lot of cars on the streets in this area. Nic’s still seen a courier from her company almost hit by a vehicle. 

Nic waits until she’s gone before he flops down onto the bed. Really, he needs to get ready for work. But every single time she goes there’s just this ache. This emptiness in his chest because she’s gone. All his life he’s had someone. People to depend on. Maybe John wasn’t the best at that, but it was someone. Nicky… she’s better at alone. She’s better at distant. Probably his fault. Probably because he pushed her away when they were seven, and just kept pushing. How long had it taken him to get her back? Had he even managed that yet? 

With a sigh he pushes to his feet and gets into his uniform. Time to get moving again, time to get into the routine of life he never expected before. As he gets his belt on and grabs for his helmet he has to take a moment to try and calm himself. He’s fifteen. He’s a kid. It isn’t reasonable for anyone to expect this of him. To want this of him. Yet here he is, defying expectation in all the ways he never should have had to. 

Helmet on Nic waits the few seconds it takes to power up and doesn’t think too hard about the darkness. When it powers up he has to chuckle. A new message stands ready on the screen. Bright purple in huge letters, and clearly from his sister. 

‘Relax. Every day we have is a blessing.’

Something Mom said when they were little kids. They have nothing left of Mom but Nicky’s drawings. The stuff they too from home John had mostly sold. The non-vital things they had left behind, and surely they too were gone now. But things aren’t important. Things aren’t a family. They aren’t the memories. They aren’t important. It’s Nicky that is memory. Nicky that is family. Nicky that is important. God she reminds him of it every day of his life. 

‘Love you too, chuckles,’ he sends back to his twin before heading out of the apartment. He’ll see her soon enough. Until then he just has to trust that Nicky can handle herself. Not like she hasn’t been able to ever before. 

‘Nerd,’ he gets back quicker than expected. 

‘What does that make you?’

‘Too cool to have to put up with your sap.’

Nic smiles as he locks the door and jogs up the stairs and toward the street. All he’s got to do is get through the airlock and walk three blocks to work. He can wait to respond to her. No matter what happens they’ll be back in the same tiny apartment tonight, with one of them bringing home take out for dinner. They’ll talk about their days, take turns in the standing shower, and when it’s all over and the lights are out he’ll hold his sister in his arms and be thankful for another day survived. 

“They’re going to come for us tomorrow,” she’ll whisper sleepily in his arms. 

“Maybe,” he’ll respond. 

And in the morning, they’ll face another new day.


	5. Seventeen

There are few things in the world that Nicolas hates more than the motorcycle. Poison green like Nicky’s old courier uniform, with a name writ in beautiful purple. It almost looks like Mom’s writing, and that hurts even more. It’s like Mom signed her name on Nicky’s life. Maybe it wouldn’t be so upsetting time after time if people didn’t call Nicky by that name. An echo of his mother in each time Nicky risks her life. Hurts more when people call him ‘Dakota’s guard.’ Like he can even protect her.

Can’t even protect her from herself or that big mouth of hers. 

“I may have made a mistake,” Nicky sighs when she comes back to the bike. Nic can easily guess the reason why, because her eyes are even now focused on the distant, white clad figure sitting astride another bike. He’s been here long enough to recognize a quality bike, and it looks like the stranger at least has something less than amazing. 

It isn’t about the bike, though. Nic’s seen his sister do amazing things with a less than impressive bike. Racing is about skill and confidence as much as it is about how well the bike runs. Still, the way Nic keeps looking toward the stranger and for reasons he can’t put his finger on, he finds it unnerving. 

“Mistake?” Nic asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You? I can’t even imagine how you’d do something like that.”

Nicky rooks her eyes at his sarcasm and moves to punch him in the shoulder. Of course he winces at the blow because damn, Nicky still hasn’t let up on training. Compared to her he’s not that strong, but he’s durable. At least he won’t bruise. Still, she isn’t smiling, so Nic has to wonder if she isn’t very serious about what she said. 

“Don’t make light of this,” Nicky sighs, reaching for her helmet. For a long moment she’s silent, as if she needs to figure out just what she’s going to do before she continues. “I may have accidentally talked the new girl into racing for pinks against Burke, and she didn’t even know what it meant.”

Well, that at least explains her focus on the stranger. You know, screwing someone out of a hard earned possession was always the best way to get to know them. Still, he keeps his face impassive, not wanting her to know he’s less than impressed. 

“She good enough to take him?”

“Guess I’ll have to find out.”

With that his sister dons her old helmet and it’s the only sign Nic gets that the conversation is over. Dakota is the one in front of him now, not he beloved twin. Dakota has little patience for the protective older brother who hovers around and wishes she didn’t do this. Sure, she helps them live more comfortably than two runaways should really manage, but the risks she puts herself through. Puts herself into. Lives with. The way she so easily accepts the risks baffles Nic. After everything they’ve lost in their lives, why does she have to try adding her life to the mix? How could she care about herself, and him, so little?

But this isn’t about him, Nic gets that. Tries to live with that. It’s about Nicky feeling alive, feeling in control, feeling powerful. In a way, he respects that. 

Messing someone else's life up in the process, though? Probably a bad sign. 

“They look like someone who will avenge themselves on us if you lose them their bike?”

Nicky, well, Dakota really, tilts her head thoughtfully, and then she shrugs before turning her attention fully to her bike. 

“Guess we’ll see.”

Then she’s turning the bike back on and Nic has no choice but to walk away. The race will start soon, and a pedestrian on the street won’t exactly help with that. New risks don’t have to be added. Alone, Nic walks to the sidewalk and moves behind a barrier. Already he’s putting his own helmet on. They don’t have a single datapad between them, so he needs his helmet to tap into the race feeds broadcast to the betters and bystanders. Nic doesn’t like watching the races this way. The cameras that get set up on the path have no audio. He has to watch in silence, never able to hear if something is going wrong. Nicky doesn’t have a chance on the roads to tell him if something is wrong. No sounds to inform it things are messing up. He has to wait and hope. 

Because of it, Nic never lets himself look at other people in the course of the race. It’s luck and timing that lets him see the only crash of the day. A bike goes skidding into the wall just after the line that is down the road from where he stands. The sound is loud enough for him to hear through the silence, and Nic finds himself moving with the rest of the crowd. Running. He’s figured out what has happened before his mind really processes that he has. 

This is her fault, hits him as he gets to the finish line and pulls his sister into his arms. The woman could be hurt, could be dead, because Nicky handled a confrontation poorly. He wants to chide her, but Nic knows better than that. Nicky refuses to be reminded of her mortality, and Nic doesn’t want to jinx it by speaking. 

Still hurts when she pushes him away and rushes off toward the woman down the street. The only words she leaves him with are ‘Burke’s bike.’

The man glares at Nic for a while when he shows up to collect the woman’s prize. Thing is, he isn’t in the mood for Burke’s stupidity, so Nic punches the man. It could have been Nicky. This asshole could have killed his sister if the bet had been different. Nic leaves the man there, bleeding, and wheels the bike over to his sister and the woman who stands up on her own. 

He breathes a sigh of relief. A breath that is torn from him when Nicky surges forward, grabbing the other woman and kissing her. It’s something that has never happened before, not for Nicky. Sure, Nic’s found the attention of a few guys in the last year, but he’s never seen Nicky even look. And now… 

His little sister is growing up, and Nic doesn’t like it at all. 

* * * * * *

“We don’t have to go…”

Perhaps the suggestion offends his twin, because before Nic knows it they’ve pulled off of the road and Nicky is putting down the kickstand so she doesn’t need to support the bike for them both. No longer needing his arms around her waist to steady him on the death trap that she calls a vehicle, Nic pulls away. Not that he wants to. Nicky has gotten worse about displays of affection for her, and since they moved to Chorus the mattress on a floor thing doesn’t have to be a thing anymore. Sure they still live in a tiny apartment. Sure they still share all their spaces most of the time. But Nic has a bed, and Nicky puts the futon couch down at night, reinforcing the space between them. 

Hard to believe she used to be the one that followed him around, wanting hugs and attention and to have her brother join her in everything. Now Nicky is the one with her own life who lets him tag along, but doesn’t seem to care whether he does or not. Sometimes he thinks the only reason he gets invited to her races is so that there is someone to watch her bike. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asks, not looking back over her shoulder at him. Not like they can share eye-contact. Their helmets, designed for use on the surface, don’t allow for it, so she doesn’t seem to care to try. Doesn’t matter that their lives for a while have been lived more or less without helmets, Nicky still avoids ‘unneeded’ gestures. 

“I mean we don’t have to leave Chorus.”

Nicky scoffs at the comment and she gets off the bike. Her movement prompts his own and they move together to lean against the building she had stopped in front of. 

“We swore,” Nicky reminds him, even though Nic doesn’t need to be reminded. It was him who had suggested it in the first place. Rub their success in John’s face. Visit Mom and Dad. Become Nicole and Nicolas again, for the sake of their parents. “Why the fuck would we go back on that now?”

The answer, of course, is in the scene he walked into without intending to. After the race, her final race, Nic had gone to find her. Since the first incident with Nicky’s ‘Ace’, Nic has made sure to give his sister space after races. Not because he wants to, but because it’s clear his sister is craving female interaction. What they talk about he doesn’t know, but Nicky sometimes seems to lose track of time. Maybe they talk about motorcycles, or Nicky’s new, razor-sharp eye makeup, or just how the other racers can’t compare anymore. He doesn’t approach, he doesn’t ask. But the sort of goodbye Nicky had offered the older racer wasn’t one Nic had expected to walk up to. Hell, given how they never say goodbye when they leave places, he figured she would just want to get out of there. 

“If you leave, then you can’t race,” he says, because that’s the best cover. 

“I can race wherever,” Nicky counters. “Wherever I go, races will fucking spring into existence, fully fucking formed. I am the best damn biker this city has seen, and that’s going to go double for home.”

Even after all these years she still considers it home, and that warms Nic. Reassures him. But that woman, that older woman who can’t even begin to suspect how young Nicky is… 

“Ace won’t be there to race you.”

That gets her to whirl on him. 

“Seriously, is that what this is about?” she demands, fists clenched at her sides. “Some chick I was kissing?”

If it was ‘just some chick’ Nic might not be concerned. As it is, this is Ace he’s talking about, that he saw her with like she never wanted to let go. Somehow, despite never seeming interested in other people except for what money she could get out of them, Nicky has found more reason to stay in Chorus than Nic ever has. 

Part of him wonders if she could just stay here and him leave. Would that be the best arrangement? She’s got things here to live for, whereas home is more of a victory lap. What does she win by going there, though? Proof that she survived? Reminders of what she lost? If she leaves maybe she loses something new, and Nic doesn’t want to take those things from her. Her happiness, her joy, her control of her own life. Him, though? He has nothing holding him here but Nicky. 

Maybe it’s time to finally let go. To separate and go their own ways. Maybe that’s what they’ve been heading toward for years. 

“You’ve got a lot of reasons to stay, Nic, and yeah, she might be one of them.”

“She’s not,” Nicky insists, voice firm. “And if I want to find her again, all I have to do is come back. For now, I want to see where I’ve been, so I can remember where I’m going.”

Remember where she’s going? Strange how Nic doesn’t have the slightest clue himself. But maybe it’s time to start thinking. 

“We’re going home, and that’s final. And you have to come with me, Nic. I… I don’t know how to face Mom and Dad alone. I promised I’d watch out for you.”

An old joke and a basic truth between them, and it drags a chuckle from Nic’s lips in spite of himself. 

“I’m supposed to protect you.”

“Then I guess you better learn how to catch up,” Nicky laughs right back. 

Maybe going isn’t a bad idea after all.


	6. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: That long standing warnings about there being Rape/Non-Con content? That's here folks. That's this chapter. It references the assault of South Dakota in a a partner story and North's reactions after the fact. But if there is a chance at all this is going to upset you, please just skip this chapter. Take care of yourself first!

A full week. That’s how long it takes to find them. A week where the first two days are only about Nicky. Putting off John and their home and everything else. Nic finds all her favorite foods and buys her a blanket in poison green and makes her smoothie after smoothie after smoothie. One of the things they had learned about themselves after the move to Chorus was that they love smoothies. Nic goes out specifically to buy a blender for her, and bag after bag of berries and bananas and yogurt. Nicky doesn’t like her smoothies made with ice and at any other time she would yell at him for spending so much on fruit. 

It’s not until she’s talking again on the third day, when she’s sleeping without waking up, when she actually moves to sleep in his arms that he decides it’s time to move. Whispers his loves and devotion and his promise to return into her hair. Nicky doesn’t really react, doesn’t look up from the television. He leaves her with the promise that when he gets back they’re going to refresh the tips on her hair, make the purple stand out better, and he makes sure that her work clothes are clean. If she needs it, her bike is in the garage of the tiny house they’ve rented for the month. She can work on her Dakota. Nicky always said she thinks less and feels more at peace when she’s making her lady purr. 

Part of him wonders if he should try to find Ace, back in Chorus, and bring her here. Instead Nic takes her helmet. He’s long since cleaned up the blood, but he wants the cracks. It isn’t his color. He’ll get her a new helmet. But he wants them to see that damage in the end. Wants them to know that even with the cracks his sister is whole. They will be the ones destroyed. And she will watch through his eyes. 

It takes another three days for him to find the men. Nicky can’t describe them, but god, Nic failed to listen. He had gone to the club, to watch out for her. Let himself get distracted by a man with laughter in his eyes, gel in his hair, quick fingers, and a hint of a drawl in his voice. Well, he finds one of the men he remembers being at the side of the person left dead by his sister. Day six is following the man back to his apartment and his friend. 

Day seven he kicks down the door, the pistols he bought in hand, and even though both men jump to their feet, he can see the realization in their eyes. At the very least, they know the color. One opens his mouth to speak, and Nic puts a bullet into the man’s shoulder. 

It takes ten minutes to get them tied to two chairs. And then… 

Then he has to think. Nic grabs another chair, hauls it over, and sits down across from the men. They watch him, fear in their eyes. 

“You’ve got to understand something,” he says softly, looking at the assholes. His fingers play with the guns resting on his thighs. The safeties are on at the second, but how little time it would take to flip those off and put a bullet clean through each head. Let them see nothing but the echo of the woman they had sought to bring low. Who will rise again like a mythical phoenix, flying up from the ashes, burning, scorching, searing the world raw with her fury.   
The men don’t speak, they make muffled, noises, some angry and others fearful, and it draws Nic’s attention from the guns. One looks scared. The other defiant. Nic just chuckles. 

“See,” he says, and he’s impressed by the strength of his voice, the coldness, the steel in his tone that he used to think only Nicky possessed. Seems like she keeps pressing him to be better than he ever thought he could be. “The thing is, that girl you took home from the bar on Friday? That was my sister. My twin. I don’t know if you actually remember her. I remember you. She looks a lot like me. Her eyes are harder though, she’s stronger. They’re ice, glaciers. Her hair is the color of pale gold. And she’s got arms strong enough to punch through a fucking airlock door. I’ve seen her bring men twice my size to their knees, I’ve seen her outrace the best of the best, and I’m pretty certain she could burst a melon with the strength of her legs.”

Nic shakes his head, ignores the men struggling against the ropes. 

“She’s my sister. Strong and vibrant and powerful, and you dared to interrupt that,” he snarls, pushing to his feet. The guns come up with him and he stands there. Part of him wants to pace. The rest of him thinks turning his back on the men is the worst idea. An amateur mistake. Could get him killed, and Nicky doesn’t need that. 

His hands come up. Not all the way. The silencers absorb the sound and the man shout in agony into their gags from the bullets put through their knees. The night is only just beginning, though. 

* * * * * *

When he comes home Nicky is just where he left her, but it’s days later and clearly something has changed. For one thing she isn’t wrapped up in the blanket. Instead she’s in her work clothes, her feet up on the table with an action flick on the television. There’s a yogurt cup in her hand and when he enters he sees her eyes flash to him. She’s registered his presence. 

“Where have you been?” she demands as she turns to look at him, and he sees grease smeared over her cheek, not to mention the back of her left wrist. She’s been working on her bike then, and that relaxes Nic a bit. 

It doesn’t make the change in her seem any less sudden, any less… worrying. How is she back on her feet so fast? Yes, he knows this won’t hold her down. Nicky is too strong. They’ve been through too much, far too much, for this to break her. But that doesn’t make him any less worried. Is it possible to come back so fast? To make peace with oneself? Can you ever do that? 

Could he, in her place? 

“Taking out trash,” he answers. Nicky raises an eyebrow. 

“For five days?”

“It was particularly loathsome trash,” Nic insists, lowering his bag to the floor. He still has the guns. He’ll return them to the dealer, who will do something with them. He doesn’t know or care what. His revenge has been achieved. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it from her, but he didn’t want another person being hurt like his sister was by hesitating. 

Nicky is silent for a while, and Nic takes his chance to toe off his boots, take off her helmet. There is no doubt that she knows it’s hers, but she doesn’t question as he sets it on the charger. Thing still works well enough. It will last them until they get the new one. It’s when he’s on his way to the kitchen that she responds. 

“Good.”

For a bit Nic stands there, trying to read into her tone. Is she thankful? Is she angry? Or is it nothing? At last he gives up. Heads to their tiny ass kitchen, grabs another yogurt, and returns to plop down next to her on the couch. Part of him hates himself for the less than mindful action when she scoots just the littlest bit so there is space between them. She isn’t ready for contact, and he can accept that. The sleeping in his arms doesn’t mean she’s ready to have him flop all over her. 

This is about her pace, and Nic puts his feet up on the table next to hers, leaving space between them. 

When he catches her pleased smirk out of the corner of his eye he just smiles back. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

“Good, because I fucking hate grocery shopping, and you’re eating the last yogurt.”

All Nic can do is laugh. Whether she’s back up to her usual vim and vigor, or she won’t be quite the same again it doesn’t matter. Because this moment, he’s clearly hers. His sister, his Nicky, and she’s never going to stop being that. 

Nicky could no more be anyone other than Nicky than he could be anyone other than Nic. In the end, what else does he need beyond her at his side?


	7. Nineteen

The one thing that had surprised Nicolas after their first mercenary gig had been the sheer amount of work that went into those first few hours after the job was done. First one went to ground, not at the home base, but somewhere they could stash the clothes and weapons from the job, possibly even any required loot for their employer until things died down a bit. After that there is the actual reporting to the employer-slash-client about the completion of the objective. A time might need set up for the exchange of goods, delivery of more substantial proof, or the transfer of funds if the person wasn’t a wire transfer kind of operator. After that there is the regathering all the stuff left to store in their beat up old jeep so they can cart it all home. Invariably they get to the garage, unload, and then Nicky declares they need something their small house lacks to properly celebrate their success. Food or drinks or even just a new DVD. They head back out, acquire the goods, and then return home for a day of downtime and recovery, the metaphorical and sometimes literal licking of wounds until they’re ready to go again. 

It all builds up in his head so much that by the time they get to the house on the first pass, Nic never thinks to say ‘let’s just stop.’ Usually his mind is off the mission and just on rest, so he wants Nicky to have whatever he wants. It’s why he doesn’t complain when Nicky carefully puts down her new ‘Lola’ on the work table in the garage or demands his help moving crates of missiles she had stolen on the way out under said table. Nor does he think too hard about the fact that there is an extra Warthog-class jeep up the street when they drive off. And he’s definitely not thinking enough to be bothered by the unsecured airlock when he follows Nicky into the house from the garage when they come back to the house after picking up a pizza. 

None of that means he doesn’t drop the bag of other groceries and reach for his pistol the second the kitchen lights come on, with Nicky nowhere near the switch. 

There is a woman sitting at the kitchen table, and something in his chest aches because that helmet, that arrangement of white and blue clothing, and the skin tone of the ungloved hands makes him recall something out of his past. But his gun is trained on the other woman, the one by the door to the dining room where Nicky works on their guns and he plans missions. It’s on the woman in shades of blue and gold, leaning against the doorframe, unbothered by the weapons oriented on her. 

Somewhere, deep inside, Nic is proud of his sister’s reflexes. She’s gotten way better, and her gun is trained with no hesitation on the red haired, poison-green eyed woman. Of course it’s not like Nicky would point her weapon at their other, helmeted ‘guest,’ so Nic transfers his own aim to her instead. 

“Ace,” Nicky greets the woman at the table, who doesn’t seem to flinch away from the gun pointed at her, “nice to have you drop by for a visit. Who’s your friend.”

“Someone who thinks you need to be more cautious entering an obviously compromised location,” the redhead answers, her voice utterly bored, as if this situation isn’t the slightest bit of a threat to her. 

“Oh fuck off before I put a bullet between your pretty green eyes,” Nicky snapped. “Or better yet, introduce you to Lola.”

“I don’t want to lose the security deposit on this place,” Nic reminds Nicky, tensing a bit as Ace stands. 

“Dakota, stand down,” the racer orders, like she’s got some kind of authority in the situation. “We aren’t here to fight. Dakota, you know me well enough to know that I don’t intend to hurt you outside of wounding your pride a little, right?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Nic snarls, but slowly Nicky lowers her weapon. 

All this time, and finally this woman comes back to steal his twin from him. Nic just wants to shoot her. But with a simple clearing of her throat he lowers the weapon. Not that he flips the safety on. Better to shoot and apologize to her for it later than to get either of them hurt. 

“Be quick,” Nicky orders the women, “because I just came off a wonderful job and if i don’t get a bubble bath soon, I’m going to have to start shooting things again.”

The redhead scoffs, and Ace grumbles something out under her breath in response. The stranger sighs and stands up, moving forward. She stops immediately when Nicky’s gun comes up. Nic’s proud of her in that moment. 

“What do you want?” Nic demands. 

“I’m not here for you,” the stranger says, only to be cut off by a gesture from Ace. 

“Carolina, calm down. I told you, the twins are just that. A pair. You’re not going to convince her by agitating him, and vice versa.”

The fact that Ace has told this invader about them doesn’t comfort Nic, but at least the other woman seems to finally relax, shaking her head. 

Nicky, on the other hand, has gone stiff. 

“Carolina? As in that mercenary that started…”

“Exactly,” Carolina cuts her off, voice softer now. “My group is in a recruiting stage, and I heard tell of a pair of mercs here that had great promise. When I found out that Niner knew you as well, I asked for her opinion.”

“Told her I don’t know anyone who rides like you,” Ace pipes up, and Nic wants to know where the new name has come from. Though, really, aren’t all of them using aliases? What was the use of real names in the work Nic and Nicky did these days? “Or punches someone like you.”

“Duh,” Nicky agrees. “So, you’re recruiting and you asked Ace. That mean you’re here to beg us to join you?”

“I don’t beg,” the woman responds, and she’s got a steel in her voice that NIc is only used to hearing from his sister. It gives him pause. So does the fact that he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on here.

“I don’t see a reason we need some arrogant merc going around that hell-hole of Gulch, calling herself ‘Number One’ to advance our own careers,” Nicky says, and what she follows with is lost to Nic as he tries to process that. 

Number One? The founder of the increasingly infamous Freelancers of Gulch, wants them? Came out here to recruit them? Doesn’t Nicky get how big this is? A stable team to support them when they’re injured, a steady supply of jobs, and a secure homebase are the major perks of mercenary teams, but the reputation increase of joining a group like the Freelancers is just… 

“Yes,” he says, and the room around him goes quiet. When he looks up he can see how red Nicky’s face is, and he knows she was yelling just seconds ago. Or ranting. Okay, all he knows is that she’s angry and probably on some kind of tangent. 

“Nic?” she asks, the name slipping from her, and she doesn’t even bother to look horrified. “You’re not seriously considering…”

“But I am,” he admits. “Think about what this could mean for us.”

Strength. Security. A chance to prove themselves. And above all else… they wouldn’t have to be alone anymore. 

Neither of the invaders of their home speak as Nicky stares back at her twin, and when she nods, Nic sighs in relief. 

“I guess we can do a trial period or something,” she says, and Nic lowers his gun at last. For the second these people aren’t a threat. Instead they are a hope-filled promise of something new. Something he’s longed for them to find. Stability. Trust. Family. 

What more can he ask for, provided Nicky is still there at his side.


End file.
